Peas are good. I discovered this after fifty-three years. I have to make up for lost time. For all this time, someone else decided how to cook my peas. Always in the same way, always from the same kitchen. I couldn't stand the smell, and they told me it was my palate that was wrong. At this moment, this fake democracy only lets you choose between pre-cooked dishes, always from the same hand; it is not an open kitchen. It is a canteen. They let someone intervene who complains about the flavor but who, by definition, never has the final say.